The Night Before Christmas
by HalfASlug
Summary: It was the night before Christmas and Ron Weasley's plans for a quiet night in with his pregnant wife and her ageing and infuriating cat don't quite go to plan.


_Rating is for language and sexual references._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling may own the Potterverse but she cannae take our freedom!_

* * *

"Ron," called Hermione's voice from the living room, "did you remember the Floo Powder?"

Unwilling to end his latest staring contest with Crookshanks, Ron ignored his wife. Both of the gingers had made to sit on the comfortable armchair by the fire at the same time and had frozen upon learning the other's intent. Ron had just returned from shopping in Diagon Alley with Harry on Christmas Eve, as was their tradition, and he just wanted to relax now that he wasn't in the middle of a ravenous crowd. Ron scowl became more pronounced when Crookshanks hissed at him.

"I buy it," Ron muttered as he menacingly as he could, "I sit in it."

Crookshanks eyed him with contempt and started slinking closer to his goal. Ron darted forward as the cat, which had been the bane of his life since he was thirteen, leapt onto the chair.

"Ron? Floo powder?"

Hermione's questions were once again ignored as Ron changed course at the last minute to avoid sitting on her beloved pet and landed on the rug in a heap. Humiliated, Ron glared at Crookshanks and swore the cat gave him a smug look before he started cleaning himself.

"You little-" Ron growled. He threw himself at Crookshanks, grabbed him around the middle and attempted to remove him from his chair. Crookshanks, however, was having none of this and dug his claws in.

"RON!" shouted Hermione. "Stop that!"

Ron looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway of the living room, hands on hips, looking furious.

"You know he isn't as young as he used to be! He is far too old to be treated like that!" she continued as she made her way slowly towards the fighting pair.

Still holding the blasted cat off the chair, Ron tried his best to look ashamed of his actions instead of annoyed at being caught. He looked down at Crookshanks to see his ugly face glaring back. The seconds ticked on and Ron found his arms starting to ache. Hermione was right (For a change, he thought wryly); Crookshanks was getting on in years. He was no longer the arrogant, toilet brush who interrupted snogging sessions when they were teenagers by flinging himself at the pair of them; he was now an arrogant, fat toilet brush who cost them a fortune in cat food and coughed up greying fur balls. One thing that hadn't changed in all those years was the constant war between Ron and Crookshanks for Hermione's attention, the comfiest places to sit and anything else they could think of.

Reluctantly, Ron let go at Crookshanks with one final, resentful look and turned sighing to his wife.

"But it's my chair," he winged. Hermione simply rolled her eyes. "Maybe if he didn't spend all his time lounging around he wouldn't be so fat," he added under his breath.

"He is not fat!" Hermione shot back. "He's just… filled out a bit."

At her words, Ron laughed and Crookshanks made his way over to Hermione and started rubbing himself against her leg. He had never been the most graceful of cats but now he waddled. Accepting that he was going to lose this argument, Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione, careful to avoid Crookshanks, and kissed her on the nose. When he pulled back she appeared to be slightly mollified.

"He's not the only one," smiled Ron. "But I definitely like it better on you."

A smile fought its way onto Hermione's face and the pair of them looked down to see the swollen stomach between them.

"You've always had the best compliments, Ron Weasley," whispered Hermione, slowly tilting her head up.

"You've always been the only one daft enough to fall for them, Hermione Weasley," Ron replied moments before their lips met. Kissing had become a logistical nightmare for them as Hermione's pregnant belly grew. Repeatedly Ron would forget and try to pull her closer to him. The first time this happened a couple of months ago Hermione had giggled and suggested that maybe practise would make perfect, a plan of action Ron definitely thought he could get on board with. Unfortunately, Hermione kept growing and Ron kept forgetting. Of course, they didn't stop practising.

After a couple of minutes of them kissing, Crookshanks got bored and scratched Ron's leg.

"Argh! You bastard!"

"Ron!"

Ron gawped at Hermione. When he tried to take Crookshanks off of _his _chair it was a vicious assault but when Crookshanks tried to take his leg off nothing was wrong. _Talk about double standards, _Ron thought bitterly.

"So anyway," Hermione said, ignoring Ron's stunned face, "did you remember to buy Floo powder?"

Casting his mind back to his shopping trip, Ron felt his heart begin to sink. They had been on the verge of going into the shop that sold Floo powder when the snow had become heavier. Harry had suggested that they wait in the Leakey Cauldron for it to lighten up a bit and so they had pulled their scarves up to shield their faces and jogged as fast as they could across the icy cobbles to the pub at the end of the Alley. After a couple of pints, they realised that the snow was just getting worse and had flooed home.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Hermione demanded. Obviously his realisation was written across his face.

"Sorry, love," said Ron with what he hoped was his best please-forgive-me smile.

Hermione withdrew her arms from around his waist and folded them across her chest and scowled at him. Clearly his smile had failed.

"You mean to tell me that when you _flooed _home from Diagon Alley, using _floo powder, _it didn't cross your mind that you had forgotten to buy some?" she almost growled at him. Since becoming pregnant, Hermione's mood swings were almost violent. Even after eight months Ron still wasn't used to the way she would burst into tears mid-laugh or suddenly start screaming at him at three in the morning. He was well aware that this conversation could end in about thirty different ways, only a handful of which were pleasant, so he went straight into damage control mode.

"Look, Hermione," he said in a placating voice, "the snow was so bad that half of the shops had closed. I can go and get some tomorrow."

"Christmas Day?" Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, the day after that."

At this, both of Hermione's eyebrows disappeared under her fringe. "You would go to Diagon Alley during the Boxing Day Sales?"

Haunting childhood memories of being dragged from shop to shop by his mum, through crowds of almost hysterical women, flashed through Ron's mind and he gulped.

"The day after that?" Ron squeaked as Hermione slapped his arm.

"I GIVE UP!" she yelled and waddled as fast as she could back into the kitchen.

Knowing that it would be much harder to apologise later, Ron followed her with a sigh and watched as she pulled a large bag of Bertie Bott's out of the cupboard.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," he said while he watched her fish out all of the purple and green beans and leaving the rest. He had no idea why but she couldn't stop eating those two colours, even though they were all different flavours. Experience told him it was best not to ask. "I'll borrow some floo powder from my parents tomorrow."

She grunted to let him know that, while she had heard him, he was far from forgiven. He watched as she examined a burgundy coloured bean, deciding whether or not it was purple enough to eat. Her continued silence was starting to annoy him but as soon as he saw her wince and rub her abdomen he felt his grievances wilt. Usually the baby was active and kept Hermione up, as it tossed and turned inside of her. For the past couple of days however, the baby had been quiet so his wife actions surprised him.

"Flipper woke up earlier," Hermione explained when Ron shot her a quizzical look, still not quite looking at him.

"Come and sit down," Ron said softly and took a few steps towards her. "I'll give you a foot rub and try and make up for being such a lousy husband?"

His attempt at levity had the desired effect. Hermione glanced up at him before delving into the bag again.

"You're not a lousy husband," she mumbled. "You're just frustrating sometimes."

Taking this to mean he was safe from physical assault, for the time being at least, Ron approached her and gave her another hug. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"Debateable," Hermione muttered as she rested her head on Ron's chest. He picked up the bag of beans, moved his arm to around her waist and they started slowly walking back to the sofa in the other room. Once they were there, Ron attempted to gently lower Hermione down onto the cushion but she fixed him with a trademark glare.

"I'm pregnant, Ron, not-"

"Crippled," sighed Ron. "I know. I'm just trying to help."

Smiling at the familiarity of this exchange, Hermione sat down with a slight huff of breath. Ron dumped the bag of sweets on the arm of the chair and knelt down on one knee in front of her and reached for her foot but Hermione moved it away from him.

"What are you doing?" she asked with a questioning look.

"I was going to give you a foot rub," replied Ron slowly. When Hermione was in these moods anything could be a trap.

With a chuckle, she reached her hand out as far as she could and Ron leant forward so she could push her fingers through his thick hair.

"Shut up," she demanded in a low voice that sent a shiver down Ron's spine, "and help me sort these beans."

Ron jumped up, span around and flopped onto the sofa next to her with a silly grin on his face.

"Who am I to refuse an offer like that?" he joked. He reached across her for the bag of sweets, giving her a sloppy peck on the cheek as he went.

The next couple of hours were spent cuddled up together on the sofa, with only the light coming from the fireplace and the magical, no-heat candles that adorned the Christmas tree in the corner as the snow began to pile up outside of the old farmhouse in Wiltshire. While they planned to move to a bigger house, closer to a Muggle primary school after the baby was born, the couple loved the privacy and seclusion the old house offered them. It may have been small and a good twenty minute walk from the nearest village but it was definitely better compared to the miniscule flat they rented when they were first engaged. Plus there were plenty of fields for Crookshanks to explore and no one around to question why a hyperactive owl could frequently be seen coming through the kitchen window.

As he sat listening to Hermione go through her mental list of what they had to take to The Burrow tomorrow, Ron slowly rubbed Hermione's baby bump, where he could feel their unborn child moving around. Even now it amazed him that there was a life growing inside of Hermione, a life that they had created. Every so often Hermione would wince when the baby turned particularly violently.

"I saw that one," Ron chuckled when he felt Hermione's stomach move underneath his palm again. When the baby moved, Hermione's stomach bulged as well, something that had disturbed Ron when he had first seen it a couple of weeks ago but now fascinated him.

Hermione placed her hand gently on top of his and squeezed it. "Yes, she's been really active all afternoon and nothing I do seems to settle her. I've no idea what she's doing in there."

"Seeing how much time they've spent with you, probably reading," Ron joked. "And stop calling my son a she," he added with a frown.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What makes you so sure the baby is a boy?" she sighed.

"What's your surname?" Ron asked for what must have the hundredth time since finding out they had successfully conceived.

Hermione gave him a look that stated that she already knew his point and that it was invalid. "Weasley."

"It'll be a boy," stated Ron. It was one of the basic facts of life. The sky was blue. Flobberworms were boring. Weasleys had boys.

Hermione shuffled slightly to face him, her brow dropping into a slight frown.

"So Ginny, Victorie, Dominique and Molly are..." she inquired, giving him that look that meant she had won the debate.

"The results of activities the family will never discuss," Ron replied solemnly.

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione, slapping his arm. "That is an awful thing to say!"

"And that," laughed Ron as he leant forward to kiss her softly, "is why we never discuss it."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but all that came out was a gasp of pain.

"What is it?" Ron tensed up; he always did when Hermione was in any kind of pain. He had no idea how he was meant to get through the birth without having flashbacks of the last time he heard her screaming in agony. He mentally shook himself. He was not going to allow one if the worst days of his life impede on what was surely to be the greatest.

"Just a bit of cramp. Don't worry," Hermione replied, still clutching her belly. "Like I said - Flipper has shifted and I guess I'm just going to have to get used to it for the next couple of weeks."

Despite her reassurances, Ron gave Hermione a sceptical look. She always hid when she was in any kind of discomfort from him so that he didn't worry which frustrated him no end. He wanted to look after her and he would do, whether she liked it or not.

"Are you sure?" he asked, rubbing her stomach. "I know Flipper can be a pain in the bump when he starts his bludger impressions but this has been happening constantly since I got home." Ron sighed when he saw Hermione's jaw tense. He hadn't even made the suggestion yet and she was on the defensive. "Maybe we should pop to St Mungo's?"

As expected, Hermione responded in a strained voice of forced calm. "I am not going to St Mungo's, in the middle of a snow storm on Christmas Eve over a bit of cramp."

Knowing just by the finality in her tone that he would be unable to persuade her, Ron let it drop.

Until of course about five minutes later when Hermione gasped again and screwed her face up in discomfort.

"C'mon, Hermione," reasoned Ron, trying to hide his worry, "this seems like more than cramp. Or maybe you're going to try telling me that it's wind?"

Ron waited for what was sure to be a witty yet scathing retort but all that came was some shallow breaths.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry," she panted. "That one knocked the wind out of me a little."

She gave him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but it came out as more of a grimace. Ron reached out and rested his hand on Hermione's bump and applied some gentle pressure. He moved his hand, searching for the baby when he eventually prodded what was undoubtedly a foot.

"Is Flipper upside down?" Ron asked, still poking the bump he had found. He felt it squirm beneath his touch and then kick slightly.

"Yes," replied Hermione. She didn't sound as out of breath anymore. "She's been like that all day actually. It's probably why I'm uncomfortable now; Flipper's never been in that position before."

Ron slowly looked up from Hermione's middle to her face with a niggling feeling in the back of his mind. It was like entering his bedroom and sensing that something had been moved but not knowing what.

"So Flipper has been still for a few days?" Ron asked cautiously.

Hermione nodded with a slight frown, clearly intrigued by his thoughtful expression.

"And now he is upside down and you've been getting cramps all day?"

A flicker of understanding flashed across Hermione's brown eyes.

"Please tell me these cramps haven't been getting gradually more frequent and painful?" Ron asked as his stomach fell through the floor.

In answer to his question Hermione started laughing.

"It's not what you think it is," she giggled. "I'm not due for another three weeks!"

"Babies aren't as punctual as you, Hermione." Ron replied seriously. "They turn up when they want."

To Ron's frustration, Hermione did nothing but shake her head in amusement.

"I can't believe we are having this conversation," chuckled Hermione.

Ron bit back a cry of annoyance. He couldn't believe that she would choose now, of all times, to be particularly stubborn and difficult. He took a deep breath before talking again. He wouldn't get anywhere if they started arguing now.

"If you're in labour-"

"Which I'm not," Hermione hotly interrupted.

"Hermione!"

But before Ron could begin to ruin his short-lived plan to remain in control of his emotions, Hermione let out a cry of shock and pain and grabbed her belly.

"Alright, breathe," said Ron softly, as he rubbed her back. "That was another 'cramp', wasn't it?"

Hermione's face remained screwed up for a couple of seconds until it unravelled into an expression of fear.

"I'm not due until the 12th of January," she whispered.

Realising that Hermione was scared out of her wits because her pregnancy, that had seen no hitches so far, had veered drastically off course, Ron decided against saying "I told you so".

"When did the pains start, Hermione?" he asked softly.

"Not sure," she replied. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to remember. "Just before you went to see Harry."

Ron had met Harry at just gone eleven this morning. A quick glance at his watch told him it was now coming up to eight. Ron noticed there were a few new scratches on his old watch, the one he had been given for his seventeenth birthday. Receiving it had by far been the highlight that day, in fact it was the_ only _pleasant memory he had of the day he came of age. Now he was a unit leader with the aurors, as well as working part-time at his brother shop, he could afford to buy a much better watch but he had always insisted on keeping this one. It helped keep him grounded as it reminded him of the times when this relatively cheap watch had been his most prized possession and how he had thanked his parents repeatedly because he was so grateful for what must have been a huge sacrifice for them.

His parents.

_Parents._

Something inside of Ron snapped.

"You've been having cramps since then and you didn't think to say?" he exploded, throwing his hands in the air.

Hermione's fearful expression quickly hardened into one of annoyance.

"I didn't want you to fuss over me like I'm an invalid!" she yelled at him.

"I know you're not an invalid," growled Ron. She had been telling him as such for the past seven months. "I also know that you've been in labour for nine hours and didn't realise!"

_Nice one, Weasley, _said Ron's conscience, _that's going to help keep Hermione calm for labour, pointing out something she got wrong._

"How was I supposed to know they were contractions?" Hermione cried defensively. "If they had got worse of course I would've told you!"

"Bloody hell, Hermione," he said with a shake of his head. "Were you going to wait until the baby was crowning?"

Hermione's eyes flashed with anger and her voice dropped to a low growl that normally had Ron running to the hills because it meant she was on the verge of losing control.

"I didn't want to be one of those women that go crying to hospital every time she has a stomach ache."

"Very admirable," said Ron as evenly as he could. He placed a hand back onto the baby bump between them and felt a gentle kick. "But this isn't a stomach ache. This is labour. Even the brave women go to hospital for that."

At the word 'labour', Hermione's eyes widened and Ron knew he had finally got his point across.

"You aren't helping!" She slapped his arm away. "Just get the over-night bag."

"Oh. So I'm the one wasting time now?" Ron retorted, with a roll of his eyes. He stood up to fetch the over-night bag but as he went to leave, Hermione grabbed his sleeve to stop him.

"Ron," she said in a completely different tone of voice to the one she was just using, "we're having a baby."

"Nice of you to notice," snapped Ron before the impact of her softly spoken words hit him. He crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his. "Fuck. We are, aren't we?"

For a moment they just stared at the other's pale face before both of them broke into huge smiles. This was the moment they had been waiting for. All of the arguing over gender and names, the morning sickness and 3am ham, gherkin, coleslaw and jalapeño sandwiches, the awkward sleeping positions and amazing pregnant sex, the advice from their mothers and stiff drinks with their fathers. All of the preparing, tears, tantrums and joyous anticipation had all been for this.

They were going to be parents.

Ron leant forward and gave Hermione a kiss that may have looked chaste but all it would take was a small spark and Ron was sure it would have set the world alight.

"Grab the over-night bag and then we can floo over to St Mungo's," smiled Hermione when they had broken apart.

With one last peck on the lips, Ron jumped and bounded towards to the door to the hallway. Just as he reached the threshold, one word of Hermione's request hit him with the force of a charging Erumpent.

"Floo powder," he breathed.

There was a heartbeat of silence before Hermione realised.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, causing Ron to wince. "We haven't got any floo powder!"

"None at all?" Ron asked, turning to see that Hermione looked even paler than before. She shook her head and he resisted the urge to swear loudly.

"That's fine," Ron said as he made his way back over to Hermione. "I can just apparate to The Burrow or – or Harry and Ginny's and borrow some and come back."

Hermione stood up awkwardly and gripped the front of his robes to stop him.

"Ron, have you seen the weather?"

Simultaneously they looked out of the window that usually showed their tiny front garden and the narrow country lane on the other side of it. At the minute, however, all they could see were flurries of snow, whipping themselves in spirals and sticking themselves to the glass.

Ron pried himself away from Hermione and made his way over to the window. Even from this distance he couldn't see their low front wall that was about three feet away from him.

"You can't apparate in that," Hermione pointed out from behind him. "I'm not having you splinch yourself!"

Knowing she was right, Ron closed his eyes and tried to think of another way of getting Hermione to a hospital; he didn't care at this point if it was St Mungo's or a Muggle hospital where they would probably try and cut Hermione open or something.

Inspiration struck him like lightning and Ron spun around to see Hermione worrying her lip in front of him.

"I'll phone for one of those abundances!" Ron said jubilantly. Thanks to Hermione, their house was a strange mix of the magical and the Muggle. One of the more useful Muggle gadgets Hermione had insisted on was a phone so that her family could get in contact with her as only her parents were connected to the floo network, or even knew it existed.

"Ambulance," corrected Hermione as she followed him as fast as she could towards the phone in the hallway, "and I don't know if they can make it up the country lanes in this."

"It's worth a try."

It had taken a while but Ron had been an expert at using the phone for years now. It seemed so simple now compared to when he first started using it when he was thirteen. It had taken Hermione nearly five minutes to convince him he didn't need to yell the first time he had called her.

Ron picked up the receiver and, after checking he was holding it the right way up, moved his index figure over the keypad when he hit a snag in his plan.

"What's the number?" he asked Hermione, turning to look at her.

Hermione gawped at him.

"I have been drilling it into you for months!"

"Yeah, well, I'm under pressure!" he shot back, feeling stupid. He had never envisioned a situation when he would need to call the Muggle so-called 'emergency services'. How they could be considered emergency help when it took them forever to get anywhere was beyond him.

"It isn't hard to remember one number repeated!" Hermione said, one hand now on her hip.

"Not for you maybe…" Ron muttered.

"All Muggle children know it," Hermione stated, stubbornly.

Ron slammed the receiver down and folded his arms. She may be pregnant and stressed but Ron was not one to back down from an argument with his wife it he knew he had an ace up his sleeve.

"What was the name of Wiley the Warlock's pet Crup?"

Hermione opened her mouth but closed it again quickly after she registered what he had just said.

"Who is Wiley the Warlock?" she asked, bemused.

"Character from a kids programme on the WWN," answered Ron calmly.

His wife's initial reaction was similar to that of a goldfish out of water.

"How am I supposed to know that?" she spluttered eventually.

Ron allowed the smug look he had spent years perfecting play across his face before answering.

"Every kid in the wizarding world knows Wiley-"

"Just phone 999!" Hermione interrupted with a huff of indignation.

After picking up the receiver again, Ron motioned for Hermione to sit down again and then pressed the nine button three times and waited. He relived his recent victory while he waited for the person on the other end to pick up but nobody did. In fact the phone wasn't even making the beeping noise it did when he usually phoned someone.

"It's not working," he called into the other room.

"What do you mean?" came Hermione's sharp response.

Ron rolled his eyes before slowly saying "It isn't working."

He could picture the frustrated look on Hermione's face as she replied. "Is there a dialling tone?"

She was using her kind, teaching voice that Ron would've found condescending if he didn't know she meant well by it. He had known her for almost fifteen years; he was used to her know-it-all tendencies.

Ron had no idea what a dialling tone was so he waited for Hermione to explain.

"A continuous beeping noise," she clarified with a sigh.

Smirking at how well he knew her, Ron held the phone to his ear and found complete silence.

"No."

From the other room he heard Hermione groan in frustration.

"The lines must be down," she called out to him. Ron, again, hadn't a clue what this meant but by the sounds of Hermione's tone it wasn't good.

"Fucking Muggle…" he muttered as came back into the living room, Crookshanks following him as he always did when he suspected Ron was in trouble with his wife. Hermione was sat on the sofa facing him, looking decidedly more worried than when he had last seen her. "I'll just – I'll go into the village and try and get help," Ron said, desperate for a solution now.

"You are not going out there!" Hermione practically screamed.

"I'm a big, bad aura; I can handle some frozen water," Ron attempted to joke but Hermione still looked horrified at the thought of him going outside. "Heating charm and I'll be fine."

Truthfully, he didn't much fancy it but what choice did he have?

"No visibility charm is going to help you out there and we live a mile away from the village!" cried Hermione, gesturing to the blanket of white covering the window. "You could end up wandering around a field on your own!"

"Well… I don't know…" Ron said, casting around for ideas and ruffling his hair. "Knight Bus?"

"Doesn't run on Christmas Eve," Hermione replied automatically. "Besides, that thing is even more unsafe now that Stan Shunpike drives it." She shuddered at the idea of the bumbling former-conductor being in the driving seat of a triple-decker bus.

Feeling as though he was being backed into a corner, Ron started to feel irritated with Hermione for shooting down all of his ideas.

"Part of me is starting to think that you don't want to be helpful," he said under his breath.

Hermione frowned at him. "We could owl someone?"

At this, Ron laughed.

"If I'm not going out there then Pig certainly isn't! The snowflakes are bigger than he is! I say we send Crookshanks," he muttered, eyeing the cat that had curled up under the twinkling Christmas tree.

Ron heard a hissing noise in response to his latest suggestion but he wasn't sure if it had come from the cat or his wife.

As Ron felt hope drain from his body and the walls close in on him, he gripped his hair with one of his large hands and rested the other on his hip and blew out a long breath. On the sofa, Hermione was looking up at him and he could see in her eyes that she was having a similar feeling. Ron took her in for a moment as they stared at each other in silence. Everything about her looked strangely vulnerable and Ron hated it. Hermione was strong, the strongest woman he knew, including his mother and Ginny, so it hurt him when she looked like she could break at any minute.

The seconds sneaked past them while Ron found the strength blazing behind Hermione's wide eyes. Once he saw it there it seemed to scream at him from every part of her. Ron looked at the pyjama bottoms she was wearing, something she had never worn around the house before she was pregnant but her mother had told her they were better than any maternity trousers she would ever find. He noticed she was wearing a t-shirt that used to be his but she had started wearing so often that she had started keeping it with the rest of her clothes. He observed the determination etched into every contour of her soft features.

He waited for Hermione to come up with the brilliant solution to their problem like she always had but after what felt like an eternity he realised no quick fix was coming.

With no way of leaving the house or informing anyone of the situation there was only one person left who could deliver this baby and it wasn't Crookshanks.

"Fuck," he breathed, covering his face with his hands. He moved them away to see Hermione staring at him.

Right now he needed some moral support to stop the wave of self-doubt that was threatening to consume him but as he looked at his wife, his pillar, the source of his much improved self-esteem, Ron was shocked to see that Hermione was still staring at him, clearly in shock.

He hadn't seen her look at him like that since he had been made a prefect and it did nothing to assure him that she had any faith in him. The situations were fairly similar. Once again Hermione had a task to perform and had expected to do it with an able or sensible partner such as Harry or a healer but then like now, she had ended up with the apparently adorable yet completely inept Ron Weasley.

"I ask you to get one thing from Diagon Alley…" Hermione breathed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Not helping, Hermione."

"If you had just stopped and thought for one second-"

"If you had just noticed you were in labour!"

"I thought it might have been wind or something!"

"It was. Solid, baby-shaped wind!"

"Look," said Hermione, "calm down!"

"No! You start panicking!" yelled Ron as he started pacing. "We are having baby and have no way of getting out of here or letting anyone know!"

Ron scrubbed his face with his hands and let out a long breath.

"Patronus!" exclaimed Hermione, suddenly.

Hope flooded his veins as Ron turned back to his wife's ecstatic face and withdrew his wand. Mentally composing a message to send to his parents, he closed his eyes and thought of her. The way she smiled, her biting wit, her perfect kiss, the child she carried inside of her…

"Expecto-"

The child that Ron would have to raise, take care of, teach the ways of the world… The child that depend on him for the rest of his life…

"-Patronum!"

A faint, silvery mist came out of the end of Ron's wand. He shook himself; he couldn't fall apart and doubt himself, not now. He tried again but wasn't any more successful as Hermione had another contraction mid-incantation.

"Can you let me concentrate?" he snapped. In return he received a glare that told him he was three seconds away from losing his testicles. He attempted another patronus but it still came out as nothing more than mist.

"I can't do it," muttered Ron, shamefaced.

"Ron, it's ok," soothed Hermione, reaching up from the sofa to rub his arm. "You're under a lot of stress. I understand."

Ashamed at his failings, Ron looked down and met Hermione's eyes. The warmth he saw there told him that she meant every word. Over the years, Ron had lost count of the amount of times he had felt like he was lower in the life's order than the gunk found under the sink and Hermione had given him a look or a touch that left him feeling like a king. It was a completely different kind of magic to what they had learnt at school but just as powerful.

Hermione picked up her wand from the side table next to the sofa and closed her eyes, still hugging her stomach with her other arm.

"Expecto Patronum!"

After fifteen minutes neither of them had successfully cast a patronus and Ron was starting to worry. Hermione was becoming stressed and that couldn't be good for her or the baby. He took a deep breath and spoke. "Hermione. Hermione, stop."

Hermione let her wand arm fall to her side and met his eyes with her own tearful ones. With a sigh, Ron knelt in front of Hermione and she placed a hand on his hammering heart. They both leant forwards so that their foreheads were touching, their breaths mixing together as they let the reality of their situation surround them. It was up to them to bring their first child into the world.

"We can do this," whispered Hermione in what Ron thought was a valiant attempt at a strong voice.

"You're right. After all," laughed Ron softly, "we did make it."

Hermione dropped her wand on the floor and slid both of her hands up to cup Ron's face, pulling him far enough away from her to look at him properly.

"I trust you, Ron, with my life," she said, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "With Flipper's life."

"Not going to be Flipper for much longer," he chuckled, though he was trying not to think about how soon the baby bump and its nickname would become a real human being.

Hermione smiled. "We can finally resolve the gender argument."

"There wouldn't be an argument if you would just take the potion."

"Where's the surprise in that?"

"Why do Muggles want that to be a surprise? Is the miracle of new life too boring for them and they want to jazz it up a bit?"

They both laughed shakily and Hermione stroked his face again. Ron covered her tiny hands with his own. He could feel her wedding and engagement rings. He could feel her shaking slightly (or was that him?) He could feel the love radiating from every part of her and he knew in that moment that they would get through this together, like they had everything else.

"I love you," Hermione breathed.

"I love you too," Ron replied in a voice so quiet that if it weren't for them being so close he doubted she would've been able to hear him. "But if that kid comes out of there with shit hair, green eyes and a scar then we are going to be having a very serious discussion afterwards."

Hermione threw her head back, laughing, before kissing him on the lips and Ron felt proud of himself for breaking the tension and calming Hermione down. However, it was only a split second before the mood was spoilt by Hermione gasping.

"What?"

Hermione pulled away from Ron and bit her lip.

"I think my waters just broke."

They both looked down to see that Hermione's suspicions were correct. Ron swallowed his nerves and stood up.

"Right. First things first," he said in what he hoped was an authoritative voice, clapping his hands together. "What are the first things?"

Hermione rolled her eyes before putting on her 'Hermione Plan of Action' face that Ron took great comfort from. At least one of them knew what they were doing.

"First, grab some towels from upstairs," she told him in the bossy tone he recognised from their school days.

With a nod, Ron walked towards the crammed bookcase in the corner of the room. He had honestly lost count of how many bookcases and other pieces of furniture that Hermione had started using as bookcases there were in their tiny house. He did know, however, that he had restricted Hermione to one bookcase in the living room and this was where she kept the books that she was currently interested in, reading or books she described as 'living room' books. It had taken them a year of co-habiting before he realised his life expectancy was vastly improved when he didn't question her system or move any of her books.

"Ron, what are you doing?" came Hermione's startled voice from behind him when she realised he wasn't heading upstairs.

Right now, the living room bookcase had an entire shelf dedicated to pregnancy and parenting books. Ron scanned the titles until he found one called _Magical Pregnancies: Expect the Unexpected When You're Expecting._ He plucked it off the shelf, checked the contents page to make sure there was a section on labour, snapped it shut again and walked back to Hermione.

"We are doing this like we've done every other mad thing in our lives," he told her as he handed her the book. "You read and then tell me what to do and, if that fails, I act on instinct while you have a panic attack."

With a shake of her head, Hermione took the book from him before Ron dashed up the stairs, taking them three at a time. After a quick detour to their bedroom to grab a clean sheet, Ron went to the bathroom and, unsure of how many he would need, took all of the towels out of the cupboard. He turned on the spot to take stock of the situation and to think if there was anything else he might need when he saw his reflection in the mirror over the sink.

His face was clammy and his eyes were wide and Ron watched as the sickly vision of himself gulped. It was no wonder he couldn't produce a patronus if he felt even half as scared as he looked. Placing the sheet and towels on the side of the bath, Ron approached the sink and leaned on it.

He was going to be a dad, not only that but he had to deliver his own baby. There was no way he could fall to pieces now; Hermione needed him to be strong. He ran the tap and splashed some water on his face but he still had a horrible swirling sensation in his gut. If he messed up or if something went wrong, he could lose the baby… he could lose Hermione…

Ron only just threw himself to his knees in time to lean over the toilet and cough up the remains of his lunch. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and tried to stop his head spinning. There was no way he was going back down there in the state he was in. Taking deep, calming breaths, Ron told himself that this was just another auror mission. He had an objective, a role to play and, hopefully, a plan of action. There had been missions and raids he had gone into with less information than this. At least he knew no one was going to try and harm him, he was at no risk, but his wife and unborn child were and that was so much worse.

Getting slowly to his feet, Ron mentally shook himself. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Hermione. He could do this. He had to.

Quickly, he scooped some water into his hands, swilled his mouth with it and turned the tap off before gathering the towels and sheet and headed back downstairs.

The next few minutes were spent rearranging the sofa cushions to Hermione's specifications, while Ron tried his best to keep the mood light, a difficult task considering Hermione's contractions were now only about five minutes apart. While Ron had been upstairs, Hermione had somehow managed to read most of the chapter and was now reeling off facts like she always did when she was nervous. She quickly briefed him on what he had to do, while he desperately willed it all to stay stuck in his head.

Eventually Hermione was lying, propped up on the sofa cushions, with her wand and _Magical Pregnancies _on the table beside her while Ron knelt by her, holding her hand and trying to be supportive but not annoying. Meanwhile, Crookshanks made himself comfortable on the armchair and glared at Ron. The look in that cat's eyes was telling Ron that he was going to fuck everything up and that he would take great pleasure in watching as he did.

"Can I kick Crookshanks out?" pleaded Ron, massaging the fingers that Hermione had just tried to break.

"He isn't - doing - anything - wrong," Hermione panted.

Ron glared at Crookshanks in the hope of intimidating him but he just waved his ugly tail in the air.

As the minutes ticked by, Hermione's contractions were getting closer together as her hair became frizzier and her temper shorter. Ron had tried cheering her up and calming her down using all of his best tricks but none seemed to be working and he felt completely out of his depth. Every time Hermione squeezed his hand and cried out in pain he couldn't think of anything more useful to do than to remind her to push or breathe, something she seemed perfectly capable of doing without instruction.

This wasn't the first and Ron doubted it would be the last time he would feel redundant when trying to help Hermione. After all, there was very little she couldn't do and when she found something she struggled with, her independence joined forces with her stubbornness to create an unstoppable force that meant she was likely to conquer any task that came to be in her way. If anything Ron felt like a hindrance but there was no way he would leave her. Even if every so often it would hit him that Hermione was giving birth and he would nearly have a panic attack at the thought.

As the clock on the hall struck ten, Ron realised that Hermione had clearly been holding back when it came to showing how much pain she was in. She was fully aware of how scared Ron was of her being in pain and Ron felt a rush of affection for her. Even in a time when she was clearly in a worse position than him, she was thinking of his needs. After one particularly long contraction in which she had screamed, Hermione had actually apologised and Ron nearly laughed.

"Don't worry, love," he assured her as he rubbed her arm, "do whatever you want. This is your show."

She gave him the ghost of a smile, sweat glistening on her brow, before closing her eyes.

"Please don't expect any kind of encore," she managed to get out between her heavy breaths.

Ron had expected this to remind him of the time spent in the Malfoy's drawing room but it couldn't be further from it. Yes, Hermione was in pain and he would give anything to stop it but he knew at the end of this they are going to have a child who he would love more than the Cannons and chocolate frogs combined.

After another hour, Ron was beginning to feel truly useless. Hermione was tired and irritable, her ruddy face covered in a mixture of sweat and tears while he could do nothing more than watch. When this had first started, she seemed to understand that he was doing the best he could but now he just seemed to infuriate her and she was only allowing him to stay because she didn't want to be alone. Crookshanks flitted between shooting Ron mocking glances and shuffling to the kitchen when he got bored.

"Just get the baby out," moaned Hermione pleaded, her chest rising and falling sharply.

Ron kissed her on the side of her head and quickly backed away again. "I can't, love," he said apologetically. "It's got to be you."

Hermione turned her head to look at him with her eyes wide and desperate. It pained Ron to see her like this.

"Please, Ron."

Realising that this was the reason he was here, to pull Hermione through this hopeless stage, Ron fixed a look of determination on his face and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

"You can do this, Hermione," he reassured her.

"NO, I can't!" she yelled at him, her expression thunderous. Without warning, she screwed her face as another contraction hit her.

"C'mon that's it," he said encouragingly over the loud grunts she was making, "Just push."

"YOU PUSH!" she screamed, nearly breaking his hand as she squeezed it.

"Hermione, I'm here for you," Ron bit out, trying not to show he was in any kind of pain, "but that isn't really my jurisdiction."

Hermione grabbed the front of Ron's shirt and pulled him towards her so that their faces were inches apart. Ron swallowed painfully.

"You put it in there, Weasley," Hermione growled at him. "Now you take it out!"

Ron whimpered.

"Please calm down," Ron begged, still eye to eye with his wife's crazed face. "I really am doing my best here."

Still breathing heavily, Hermione let go off him and lay back down on the cushions. When he was sure that her latest outburst was over, Ron rubbed his throat and moved so he could look between her legs check for any sign of an on-coming baby.

He studied the area for a couple of seconds before looking back to Hermione, who was now looking at him expectantly.

"Honestly," said Ron, tilting his head to the side, "I have no idea what I'm looking for here."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How dilated I am?" she suggested as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh…" Ron started. "So I just – what?" He tried his best to gesture with his fingers what he thought he was meant to do as tactfully as he could but in the end it just looked like his hand had gone into spasm.

"It's hardly uncharted territory," Hermione pointed out with her eyebrows raised.

Ron gave a shaky chuckle before following Hermione's instructions.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed without thinking. "I could fit my whole hand in there."

"Ron!" chastised Hermione angrily.

With a sigh, Ron went back to focussing on the task at hand. He was having a hard time trying not to say aloud all of the, in his opinion, hilarious one liners that were currently rolling about inside his head but he knew it would only aggravate Hermione more. Plus he was a bit worried about poking the baby in the head. He had no idea if that was possible, let alone if it was dangerous, but the thought of it made him feel a bit weird.

"I dunno," he said after a minute or so. "Erm… 4 fingers with a bit of space?"

With a sigh, Hermione pulled him by his arm towards her and held his hand in front of her face to study his fingers, while Ron awkwardly hovered over her.

"I think I'm must be about 8cm," she eventually muttered.

"Centi-what?"

Hermione didn't have chance to answer him as she was having another contraction. Ron was certain that he heard his wrist snap in her iron grip over Hermione's cries.

"That's it, love. Just push," he called, although he was also reminding himself as his eyes began to water. "And breath."

"I know to breath!"

As time went on, Ron started getting the hang of checking how far into the labour they were as well as dealing with Hermione's increasing frustration. This was possibly the first time in her life where reading every book available and putting all of her determination to use wasn't going to hurry the process along. As someone who was used to achieving things in half the time of everybody else, Hermione wasn't taking this very well.

Ron found his was more than capable of dealing with it, however. If could just absorb her threats, knowing that she didn't really mean them, and comfort her between pushes then he saw no reason for the birth to go wrong.

The blizzard outside was still raging as Hermione started to look more tired and weepy than angry as she sat back on the mountain of cushions behind her. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and cheeks and her eyes were slightly bloodshot. Ron knew she must be exhausted and he no idea how she was still able to push given that she looked about ready to collapse.

As tired as she looked though, Ron couldn't help but think she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Ron, I'm tired," she moaned. She had her eyes closed as she pushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"You're nearly there, Hermione," he assured her. Last time he had checked she was fully dilated and her contractions seemed to be lasting longer than the gaps between them.

"No," Hermione breathed, "No, I need some sleep."

Ron sighed. With each passing moment her threats, plans and wants seemed to be becoming more nonsensical. Not five minutes ago she had promised to rip his arm off and force him to beat himself with it when he asked if she was comfortable.

"You can't sleep right now, Hermione. You're having our baby," he calmly reminded her.

"Just a quick nap," she begged. "Flipper is still going to be there when I wake up."

Ron looked into her eyes and saw that this time was different. This time she seemed to be genuinely considering following through with her plan.

"You can't be serious."

"I have _no energy,_" moaned Hermione.

"Yeah, you do," Ron told her with a shaky laugh. "You can't give up now!"

"I'm not giving up," Hermione snarled at him, with a glare. "I'm just resting!"

With the increasing fear that all sense of reason had left her, Ron gawped at Hermione.

"Hermione, that's mental," he told her, trying to swallow his own hysteria. He had to remind her of the situation, although how she had forgotten was beyond him. "What do you want me to do? Tell Flipper to back up a minute because Mummy needs her beauty sleep?"

For what felt like a lifetime, they glared at each other, both convinced that the other was being unreasonable. Eventually Hermione cracked.

"I'm going to sleep," stated Hermione defiantly.

"No!"

"I swear, Ron, if you don't let me get some sleep," she said in a low, threatening voice, "after this baby is born I will castrate you with my bare hands."

Quickly working out that this was her seventh promise of castration this hour and therefore overtook outright death as her favourite threat, Ron sighed before replying.

"I'm sure you will," he said quietly, "but first you've got to give birth so maybe concentrate on that, yeah?"

He knew he had made a mistake the moment he stopped speaking.

"I'M –GOING – TO – SLEEP!" Hermione roared at him.

"Hermione-"

Suddenly, Hermione grabbed her wand off the side table, gave it a complicated wave and cried "Avis!"

Several large canaries came bursting out of the tip and started circling her head. Ron fell back on his arse and looked up at the love of his life as she pushed herself up into the best sitting position she could manage. The canaries flew around her head as she glared at him, her eyes on fire, her hair huge and her expression almost demented.

"Now," she growled at him through gritted teeth, "I am going to take a short nap."

Without further ado, Hermione flopped back down, closed her eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

From his position on the floor, Ron stared at the sleeping figure of his wife, her legs still open and bent at the knee, and then up at the twittering canaries above her. In all of his visions of the birth of his first child he had never expected this and if he was honest with himself, he hadn't a fucking clue what to do. Could the baby be born while the mother was asleep? Was the baby asleep as well? Should he go to sleep too?

Figuring that if he did nothing then he couldn't mess anything up, Ron stayed on the floor, eyeing the small birds apprehensively, listening to Hermione's soft breaths and waited for her to wake up.

After three of the strangest minutes Ron had ever lived through, Hermione opened her eyes and sat up slightly. Tentatively, Ron scrambled up and knelt by her side again.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Better, thank you," she replied with dignity.

After her short rest, Hermione seemed have a new determination and energy behind her. She seemed to be giving her all and let Ron fuss around her and shout all of the nonsense that popped into his head. As Ron had his hand crushed again, he wondered if the bones there had been turned to dust yet.

Although he was no expert, Ron was convinced (or maybe just hoping) that the end was just around the corner, a dream that was confirmed when he next had a look between Hermione's legs.

"Wow!" he cried, almost unbelieving. "I can see the head!"

"Really?" panted Hermione. "Does everything look alright?"

"Er…" said Ron. He tried to think of something reassuring because Hermione looked terrified. "I think so. Hard to tell. It is a bit of a mess down here."

He had barely got the words out of his mouth when something collided with his chest, knocking him backwards. Stunned, Ron looked up and realised that Hermione had kicked him.

"I'm really not in the mood, Ron!" she shouted.

"You asked me what I thought," retorted Ron, "and I told-"

He saw her foot coming this time but he still didn't have chance to move out of the way. This time she had kicked him in the side of his head, sending him flying off the sofa. As he landed he cracked his head off the coffee table and swore loudly.

"Hermione, that fucking hurt!"

"Really, Ron?" Hermione replied scathingly. "I feel so sorry for you at this difficult time!"

His clever reply died on his lips as he watched Hermione push once more, her whole face turning almost purple with exertion. He rubbed the lump on the back of his head and shuffled over to her to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Calm down, Hermi-"

"Stop telling me to f-fucking calm down!" she screamed, knocking his hand away.

Ron sat back on his heels and stared, open-mouthed at his wife. He had never once, in nearly fifteen years of knowing her, heard her drop an F-bomb outside of the bedroom, and even then she usually denied it. It was this, combined with the way she had stuttered the word she hated so much, that made him realise that under the furious anger and wild behaviour was his wife, his wife who was in a lot of distress and needed him to take all the shit she threw at him, especially now, in the final stages of labour.

"Alright, you can do this!" he said, as Hermione started pushing again.

He smacked a kiss on her forehead and dived to the other end of the sofa and prepared himself for the imminent arrival of their first born.

"We are never having sex again," wheezed Hermione.

"Whatever you want," chuckled Ron, while secretly hoping that it was just crazy labour-talk, "just push."

While the sight in front of him was admittedly disgusting, Ron couldn't stop thinking that the tiny head he could see was his child. The kicks and movement he had felt through Hermione's belly were made by the tiny human he was staring at now. Trying simultaneously to savour the moment and not comprehend the enormity of it, Ron continued shouting encouragement until finally – _finally –_ the baby slid out of Hermione like it was the most simple process in the world.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione flump back on the cushions as he scooped the baby up and began wiping the blood and slime off of it with a nearby towel.

"Hermione, that's it," he laughed. "Well done!"

The tiny baby in his arms started crying enthusiastically as he continued cleaning it.

"The baby-" rasped Hermione.

"Looks fine," Ron informed her. His mind was all over the place. He was trying to concentrate on the job at hand, the job he knew he had to do, before he even began to think about what he was currently holding in his arms. "Healthy pair of lungs. Where's that other towel? How're you?"

"Fine. Tired but fine," Hermione said with a small smile. "Are you sure the baby is-"

"Five fingers, five toes, three arms… just joking," Ron interrupted. "Ha! This stuff is foul… Where's the blanket?"

"Thank God…"

"You were amazing, love. Incredible. I'm so proud of - Oh shit, the cord thing."

After remembering to sever the umbilical cord with his wand, Ron wrapped the still crying baby loosely in a blanket. He went to get off the sofa and move around to Hermione, when he finally looked at the bundle in his arms properly. In a daze, Ron sat back and stared at the child in front of him. Although it was now clean, it was still a bit wrinkly and its entire face was screwed up as it wailed. Compared to Ron's pale hands and the light yellow blanket, its skin looked a horrible red-y purple colour.

Without warning, the baby stopped crying.

Aware that he was staring but without knowing how to stop, Ron noticed the tuft of downy ginger hair that covered the baby's head and the way its skin was slowly turning a less angry shade now it wasn't crying. He lifted a freckled finger and gently stroked the baby's cheek and Ron saw its eyes crack open the smallest amount. Under the miniscule eyelids, Ron could see light blue eyes shining out at him.

Tiny, light blue eyes that were exactly the same shape as his own.

Suddenly Ron didn't see the wrinkles or the messy towel he had thrown on the floor; he saw his and Hermione's perfect, little baby and it was that moment when he felt tears start to fall from his eyes.

He leant forward and kissed his baby on the forehead, taking in its unique smell, knowing full well he would give his life for this piece of perfection without batting an eyelid.

"Ron?" Hermione called softly. Ron continued staring at their baby, vaguely aware that he should show Hermione.

"Yeah?" he sniffed.

"Are you crying?"

"No."

Ron's thick voice betrayed his answer and he looked to see that Hermione had sat up a little and was watching him, her own tears streaming down her face. They looked at each other for a moment before they chuckled wetly. Carefully, Ron got off of the sofa and moved round to Hermione, knelt on the floor and gently handed her the baby.

"Here's one I made earlier," he joked through his tears.

It was a stupid phrase he didn't understand but it seemed to be some kind of in-joke between Hermione's family and Hermione chuckled as she gazed down at the baby in her arms for the first time.

"We made this," she whispered, awestruck.

"We did, didn't we?"

Ron planted a kiss on Hermione's crown, as Crookshanks started clawing at his legs but for once Ron didn't care. As the clock in the hall struck midnight, announcing Christmas Day, Ron stared at his family and tried to define the feeling bursting through his chest but couldn't.

"Merry Christmas," said Hermione, turning to him as she stroked the baby's fuzzy hair.

"Merry Christmas," replied Ron. "This doesn't count as my present by the way."

Hermione rolled her eyes and they sat, Ron with his arm around her shoulders, staring at the life they had created. Now that he looked closely, Ron started to notice that as far as he could tell from what he'd seen in his own baby photos, the child in front of him would have been identical to him if it wasn't for his nose being slightly longer. He thought this might have been a bit scary but it wasn't in the slightest. In fact, he felt a burning sense of pride.

"Beautiful. Just… perfect," sighed Hermione. "Wait, Ron… is it a boy or girl?"

Ron's eyes snapped away from the baby to Hermione, in shock.

"I… erm…"

"You forgot to check?" she exclaimed.

Ron felt his ears redden in embarrassment. Of all the things he would be stupid enough to forget to do… "I was caught up in the moment," he said defensively.

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione turned back to the baby and cocked her head. Ron followed her gaze and knew exactly what she was thinking: how could they possibly disturb their child while it looked so peaceful?

"We have to know, Ron," said Hermione, still sounding reluctant.

"I know," exhaled Ron. "It just feels rude, having a peek like that."

Hermione chuckled and began gently moving the blanket aside to check what gender the baby she had carried inside of her for nearly nine months was.

"Well?" pushed Ron, impatiently.

Hermione bit her lip and looked up at him. "We have a daughter."

Ron felt fresh tears form as he stared down at his little girl and felt another rush of affection for her. Since she had been born not five minutes ago, Ron was certain his love for her had grown tenfold. The whole thing unnerved him. If it carried on like this, when she was a week old he wouldn't be able to leave a room she was in. In fact even now he was struggling to take his eyes off of her.

After Hermione had carefully covered her again, she leant sideways and kissed Ron soundly on the mouth. It took Ron a moment to realise that this was their first kiss as parents.

"I love you," Ron mumbled against her lips, "So much."

He felt Hermione smile before she replied "I love you too."

Hermione broke away to kiss their daughter's forehead as she started to squirm in her mother's arms.

"She looks just like you," Hermione noted happily.

"Saying I look like a girl?" replied Ron in mock indignation.

"No, but she does."

Ron leant closer to their daughter to see her from a different angle. There was no denying it though – she was the absolute spit of him.

They watched as their daughter dragged her bottom lip into her mouth, her tiny arm flailing around to hit Ron on the nose.

"Yeah, but she takes after you."

* * *

_A/N: To the best of my knowledge I have never been pregnant or given birth but I have been on the side lines for a few pregnancies and have been told many stories over the years, a few of which have been paid homage to in this story (The parts about thinking labour pains were something else and "I'm going to sleep regardless of what anyone else says" are actually from my own birth. Thanks for the inspiration, Mum, you absolute nutter. ) While I'm sure this is a poor substitute for experiencing pregnancy/labour first hand, going out and getting pregnant seemed a bit too far to go for the purposes of research. I did do a bit of reading on the internet about the labour process but I have probably made some mistakes. Feel free to point them out (In fact, please do) but please keep in mind that this is a piece of light-hearted and, hopefully, amusing fanfiction and not a medical journal. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_-HalfASlug_


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